Tag Archives: fn2187

In an alternate universe, several years before The Force Awakens….

Old Gary the stormtrooper sat sadly in the cantina.

Formerly TK-1287, the retired trooper was having a bad day. He blew what remained of his life savings on a bad bet — he backed the wrong team in the Kessel Races. Now all Gary had left were his blaster and a couple of credits.

Someone took the bar stool next to him, an old man with a scarred face. Silently, Gary debated whether he can mooch him for a drink. But the old geezer didn’t look loaded with credits.

“Maybe grandpa here has any credits? Naaah.”

Someone else took the stool on his other side, an old smuggler turned race team captain. That scoundrel Han Solo.

Maybe he can mooch him instead.

“That was a bad race man. Maybe you shoulda stayed in the smuggling business.”

Solo looked at him. “Yeah, the team’s not up to spec today. Do I know you?”

“Yeah man, TK-1287. We captured you back on Bespin!”

There was an awkward pause.

“If it helps, I backed your team today. And I voted for your wife in the Senate polls too.”

Han nodded. “Yeah well thanks for the vote of confidence. So whadya do now?”

“Me? I’m just a drifter seeing the galaxy. Didn’t get to see much during my service, just bulkheads and battlestations. How bout you? How’s the princess?”

“We’re doing alright. Leia’s busy doing political stuff. Me, I finally get to see the Falcon racing without being chased by turbolasers.”

“Great. Last I saw you, you were being carbonited — even told my son about it! Got any kids?”

“Told him I was gonna carbonite him too if he didn’t shut up.”

“Yeah, just one. He’s in Jedi school taking after his uncle. Yours?”

“My little Larry’s in the academy taking after me. Taught him a few tricks too. Jedi school huh? That doesn’t sound good for the poor schmuck.”

Han glanced sideways at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well Vader went to Jedi school, look how that turned out for him. Spent a lotta time in his little black room shipside. Not very social, that guy.”

“Ha, I know what you mean. The asshole tortured me and didn’t even ask anything! Wish he knew I got to bang his daughter.”

“Yeah well that’s the Jedi for you. Maybe you oughta take your kid out, take him starship racin’ or teach him smuggling. The little fucker might turn into a whiny Sith before y’know it.”

Would you join a bunch of murderers, traitors and thieves? Or would you rather wear plastic armor and bring order to the galaxy? We don’t know about you, but it definitely won’t be the Resistance scum for Stormtrooper Larry!

The hilarious a-holes behind Mad Magazine just released a recruitment pamphlet for the First Order. Building on the success of their Force Awakens issue last February, the gang of idiots is back with a second helping of Star Wars.

This time, they’re shilling for the “good guys” and their three Ts policy: Terror, Tyranny and Totalitarianism. But they can’t do it without some fresh blaster fodder. Prospective “fear ambassadors” (sounds like a Disney term) will get to chill their ass off in Starkiller Base, enjoy some sun in Jakku, and march along endless gray corridors awaiting rebel saboteurs in the time-honored stormtrooper tradition.

Exciting activities include carrying out pro-active population control policies, marching in perfect formation, standing around in rows while Kylo Ren makes his grand entrance, and learning how to use one of those “spinny laser-baton thingies”.

You never know when you need to stop a traitor with a lightsaber!

It’s nice to know that health coverage now extends to lightsaber dismemberments, Wookiee dismemberments, and Ewok-related injuries. Unfortunately it seems that most troopers still don’t enjoy free prescription lenses, which account for the majority of missed stormtrooper shots.*

We also get a nice tidbit about the new stormtrooper armor. It’s 3% more effective than before, offering almost 15% greater protection against blaster fire! As long as your serial number isn’t FN-2003….

The Kickstarter is a nice touch. With the fall of the Empire, the new organization had to scrape the funds for their own death ball. And what better way to raise credits than to crowdsource it?

While Jedis don’t crave adventure and excitement, Star Wars fans do. So fuck the light side, go and sign up with the winning side. Join the First Order through Mad Magazine today!

The digital issue is available now, while the printed version will come out on June 14.

*Poor eyesight and helmet design account for 95.5% of all missed blaster shots by stormtroopers, based on an in-depth study pulled from Stormtrooper Larry’s ass.

Star Wars collectors, hold on to your wallets: Disney and Lucasfilm have just launched a new line of Star Wars memorabilia aimed at the premium segment.

Star Wars Collectibles: Ultimate Studio Edition are high-end prop replicas specially made to order. They will be crafted at Pinewood Studios, the same studio where The Force Awakens, Rogue One, and now Episode VIII are being shot.

The replicas will be made from digital scans of authentic props used in the film, and produced using 3D printing technology. They also come with custom display pedestals and wooden crates modeled after the real crates used to ship the film props.

According to Disney, even the wooden crates will be custom-tailored for the replica. You know you’re dealing with serious stuff when even the packaging itself is hand-tailored.

The replicas themselves will be made by Propshop, a production company contracted by Pinewood Studios to produce film props for the Star Wars franchise. So start selling those Master Replicas and extra kidneys, the Ultimate Studio Editions have arrived!

The whine of the sublight engines ceased, replaced by the throb of the repulsors. They were in atmosphere. One minute to deployment.

Onboard the squat transport, white-armored figures checked blaster rifles and power packs. On top, the dorsal gunner began blasting away at unseen targets.

Touch down. The ramp drops. Fires. Shouting. Brilliant beams of energy crisscrossing through the night. Moving as one, the stormtroopers rush out of the transport and into the fray.

Stormtrooper FU-1287, aka “Larry”, pays no attention to the firefight. He has more important things on his mind than some stupid battle.

Last night, the dreaded Internal Security Bureau discovered his hidden stash of smut holozines. It won’t be long before the ISB traced it back to him. In fact, he had volunteered for this mission in order to desert and preempt their inevitable dragnet.

According to the mission briefing, they were to raid an inhabited area of Jakku, a backwater planet. Never one to volunteer, Stormtrooper Larry jumped at the chance — he expected to find a dingy city of scum and villainy where he could disappear. Instead, what he found was a ramshackle group of huts in the middle of the desert.

He really should pay more attention to those mission briefings.

A disappointed Larry scanned his surroundings. Around him, white armored soldiers exchanged blasterfire with civilians. Flametroopers torched huts while the heavy gunners laid down withering covering fire to allow the squads to advance.

One stormtrooper smeared with blood stood motionless in the middle of the shootout. What the hell was this guy thinking? Larry tackled the idiot to the ground.

“Dammit man, don’t be a nerfbrain!” The dimwit didn’t respond. Larry could see the soldier was traumatized, his helmet still marked with a bloody handprint. It was probably the kid’s first combat deployment.

“Just stay low, okay? It’s gonna be alright.”

“Keep your head down man! What are you, Boba Fett or something?”

With a pat on the back, he left the shellshocked idiot to find someplace where he could think. A war zone made a poor place for contemplation.

Crouching low, he made his way to the back of the village, skirting around the residents who were busy welcoming the intruders with blaster bolts. He couldn’t find even an old speeder or swoopbike to escape in. This place really was a dump, and he had been to many hell holes.

Larry broke into a tent, but found it occupied by an old man who was frantically burning some tattered books and ancient-looking stuff. “Oops. Sorry old timer!” Nope, he couldn’t stay here either. It was probably the village hoarder and his load of junk.

“And no offense, but you gotta air this place out. It smells like a Hutt.”

At the edge of the village, he finally found an outcrop of rocks where he could sit and concentrate.

Ten full crates of Twi’lek Dancers Monthly were stashed in the main hold of a broken transport. Thanks to First Order bureaucracy, that transport ship sat neglected and unrepaired for over three years. This made it the ideal warehouse for Larry’s bootleg operation — smuggling sexy holozines for his captive (and very eager) market, the bored stormtrooper contingent of the Star Destroyer Finalizer.

What he didn’t count on was the unwelcome arrival of General Hux and some kind of space magician onboard the destroyer. Within a few days, all of the sloppy mess on the Finalizer was cleaned up… including Larry’s smut ship. After the crates were cracked open to reveal an avalanche of porn, the ISB was called in.

As Larry sat brooding, a yellow ball raced past him into the desert. He ignored the twittering droid and focused on his situation.

If only all his porn could fit in that droid, he wouldn’t be in trouble.

The good news is, he had the foresight to name the shipment after an old training sergeant that he hated. The bad news is, once the ISB unraveled the false trail, Larry only had three days before they caught on to him… perhaps five days at the most. Those ISB thugs may be mindless brutes, but they were ruthlessly efficient brutes.

A crackle in his commset interrupted his thoughts. “FU-1287, what’s your status? Get back here!”

Larry ran back to his squad, firing in the air for effect.

A pauldroned officer confonted him. “Where the hell were you?”

“Uh, I looped around back and shot a whole group trying to escape sir!”

“Yeah? Well get back in formation, space Rambo. We have visitors.”

A menacing command shuttle circled over the assembled troops and touched down. It was the magician from the Finalizer, followed by that bitchy stormtrooper in chrome, Captain Asthma or something. The battalion snapped to attention as the black figure strode dramatically down the ramp. These First Order bigwigs loved their grand entrances.

The old hoarder he encountered was taken before the magician, and the two began to talk. They were probably haggling over the old man’s wares. Larry tuned them out and looked around for ways to escape.

All of the civilians were being herded in the village square. Unless there was a mass breakout, there was no way he could disappear. He couldn’t even hide, since the whole area was surrounded by nothing. A white-clad stormtrooper in the middle of the desert would stand out like a nude Twi’lek dancer in a Jedi temple. Why does it always have to be a desert planet?

There was a commotion. The black magician stopped a blaster bolt in mid-air, seizing Larry’s attention back to the present. Wow, cool trick! It was probably magnets or something. He watched as a scruffy-looking civilian was brought before the space wizard, get beaten up, and then was hustled off into custody.

Larry gulped. That would be his own fate a few days from now.

“Shit. I don’t even have a jacket like that.”

After a few minutes, Captain Asthma took over. “On my command.”

As one, the line of stormtroopers raised their rifles and aimed. Larry mimicked them.

“Fire.”

The troopers began shooting. Still distracted by his predicament and unsure what he should be firing at, Larry shot at the straw huts, the dirt barricades and some of the rocks. He also shot at a dead mynock, wishing it was the ISB agents who were at this moment hunting for him. Finally, the blasterfire ceased and the firing line dispersed.

Larry approached the magician. “Hey man, that was a neat trick! How’d you do it?”

The black-robed figure didn’t respond. He was staring intently somewhere else. All of a sudden, the frozen blaster bolt was released, impacting into a nearby post with a loud bang. Larry was stunned — this guy should have his own holonet show!

“Awesome dude! So where are the magnets??” But when he turned around, Mr. Magic was gone. He had already returned to his ship. Larry didn’t even get an autograph.

His headset crackled. “We captured a Resistance pilot. FU-1287, take a squad and search his ship for the map. Get moving.”

“Umm.. roger that!”

Accompanied by a handful of troopers, he trudged off to carry out the task. What map?

The ship turned out to be a damaged Incom T-70 snubfighter. Obsolete by galactic standards, the old X-wing was being phased out in favor of the newer T-75. While the others searched the hold and access panels, Larry climbed the ladder and plopped down into the cockpit.

It was a filthy mess. The tiny space was littered with empty ration bars, holo-selfies, a stained jumpsuit, hair gel, and a map of the D’Qar system. Was that their objective? Larry tried hard to remember. Oh yeah, they’re supposed to be looking for the Skywalker system. He tossed the map aside and rummaged behind the seat.

Just behind the headrest he found a couple of gay holozines and some empty water bottles, while he discovered dried gum stuck under the seat and even more discarded wrappers. Disgusted, he climbed out of the cockpit.

These Resistance scum probably lived in their ships full time. As much as he wanted to escape, it would never be in this filthy craft, even if it wasn’t damaged and even if it was the last ship in the whole galaxy. As soon as he was shipboard, his gloves were going in the incinerator.

Larry signaled to the heavy gunners. “Nothing here, go ahead!”

“Filthy space hobos.”

He ran back to the lieutenant. “The enemy ship was uh, clean, sir.”

“Get back to your transport. We’re pulling out.”

As Larry walked dejectedly back to the dropship, he passed the shellshocked idiot he tackled earlier. He wasn’t sure if it was one of his porn buyers.

“Hey, what a mess right? We’ll get out of it somehow.”

The blood-smeared trooper stared blankly at him. Maybe not one of his customers then.

Stormtrooper Larry looked back at the burning village, as the first rays of dawn broke through the dark. He had less than a week to escape from the First Order and the merciless ISB, all because some pasty general and a space wizard ruined his sweet smut racket.

Yes, he would get out. Somehow.

Itching for the next part? Stormtrooper Larry will return in Escape from the Finalizer. Subscribe now so you don’t miss out!